


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by michelleblack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelleblack/pseuds/michelleblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for LJ prompt: Dean and Castiel end up stuck in a closet together and Dean mentions that it reminds him of playing 7 Minutes In Heaven when he was a kid. Castiel is curious and Dean awkwardly explains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a few years ago on my LiveJournal account.

The door to the closet slammed shut, trapping Dean and Castiel inside a very tiny little broom cupboard. Dean groaned as he kicked something over, and immediately felt a cold wetness pour into his boots.  
   “Stupid fucking door! Dude, could you -”  
   “Dean, I can’t do anything!”  
   Dean tried to push his way further away from the door, and Castiel, while at the same time trying not to slip and fall into the wet puddle of dirty water that had obviously not been changed in about twenty years or so.  
   This whole ordeal was already wearing his patience thin, and it had only been less than ten minutes since they had left Sam in the Impala to quickly check the house out. So far, there had been no signs of a vengeful spirit, or anything other supernatural, for that matter.  
   “Cas, eh - You don‘t happen to have a crowbar in that trench coat of yours?”  
   A huff told him that, no, Castiel didn’t have anything remotely close to a crowbar hidden on his person. Dean sighed in defeat, leaned back at the shelves, and looked at the slightly dishevelled angel in front of him.  
   “Well this was very nice. Any ideas of how to get out of here?” Dean asked after a while, stuffing his hands down his pockets in exasperation.  
   “If I had, we wouldn’t be here, and no, Dean, I can’t ‘zap’ us out of here, so don‘t bother thinking about it.”  
   They sank to the floor, Dean swearing because not only were his boots, and socks soaking wet; now his jeans were too.  
   Minutes practically crawled past inside that tiny, very confining cupboard. Dean couldn’t help but wonder why Castiel had insisted to push him in there, since there were obviously no ghosts or anything around.  
   “Do you expect Sam will come here and help us?” Castiel asked helplessly.  
   Dean shrugged in response, although he knew Castiel would probably not see it, since it was almost pitch black, only a tiny amount of light seeping in from under the door.  
   “This reminds me of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”  
   Silence followed that statement, and Dean could just about make out Castiel’s trademark head-tilt, and confused face in the darkness.  
   “You have not been in Heaven, Dean”  
   Dean snorted out laughter, because, yeah, only Castiel would take that so seriously.  
   “It’s a game. I played it once when I was a kid. Man, I can’t believe you’ve never heard about it on your two-thousand year stay here.”  
   Silence again. Dean chuckled lightly. Good thing they had something to talk about, other than just sitting here in the dark; waiting for Princess Winchester to come and break their asses out of there.  
   “How do you do it?”  
   Stunned by the sudden breach of silence, Dean drew in a breath filled with dust and old air.  
   “Do what?”  
   “The game. Seven Minutes in Heaven.”  
   He sighed, not really sure if he should tell Castiel that; after all, he was an angel. Then he thought, what the hell, it’s not like Castiel will die if he tells him.  
   “Someone is selected to be God -”  
   “Why do you need another God?”  
   “Dude, it’s a game, as in, not serious. God has to decide, using a dice, or cards, or whatever, two people who will go into a cupboard, like this, together.”  
   Judging by the silence, Castiel was not getting it. Dean shifted uncomfortably, wet jeans making sticky noises, and he hoped Sam would hurry up no notice their lack of returning.  
   “Together. They’re in there for seven minutes while someone outside keeps count of the time.”  
   “I don’t see the purpose” Castiel states, and he says it so seriously Dean almost thought someone had died in that very cupboard during their little visit.  
   “They’re in there for seven minutes, together. Damn, do I have to spell it out to you? They’re probably making out.”  
   The pause that follows is a lot more strained, bordering on uncomfortable.  
   Castiel shuffled uneasily in his corner.  
   “Why would God do that? Choose two people and force them to make out?”  
   “They don’t have to, they can just talk, or do whatever they like, as long as it’s played fair. By the way, it’s just someone who plays God, not the real one”  
   Apparently Castiel must be making some mental progress, since he’s not saying anything, and the atmosphere inside the cupboard had changed. Less confused-angel, and more accepting-the-idea-but-still-in-denial. Dean almost finds it cute, if he wasn’t pissed off about his goddamn jeans plastering onto the floorboards like wallpaper.  
   “Do you think Sam is on his way?”  
   Castiel’s voice was hushed, and slightly hurried, although Dean didn’t know what for.  
   “Nah, he’ll be a while, never been one to catch on quickly.”  
   Castiel got to his knees, and Dean looked up at him in confusion. The angel was moving closer, effectively blocking out all light, and any potential escape route.  
   “What are you -”  
   A finger on his lips made him shut up, and he could not remember the last time he was so easily silenced. Castiel seemed to notice the same, but only fleetingly, because then he was leaning forward. Dean felt himself kind of shrink away, worried about what the hell Castiel was doing, and why he was so damn close.  
   Then he couldn’t see anything, and there was a pair of sandpaper-dry lips covering his own, smothering the surprised whimper that passed Dean’s lips. Dean was frozen in place, not even feeling the cold wetness anymore. The only thing that was real to him in that moment was the feeling of Castiel’s lips moving uncertainly against his own.  
   When he felt Castiel breaking away, he grunted a little, and brought his hand up to grab at the angel’s collar, tugging him closer. Castiel almost fell forward, knocking their foreheads together, and they both flinched in pain. There was that moment ruined. Or so Dean thought, but then Castiel climbed, fucking climbed, onto his legs, seemingly not bothered by Dean’s wet jeans, and just continued the kiss as if nothing had happened, and this really should not feel so fucking good.  
   Dean’s hands were all over the place, one second they were nestled in Castiel’s hair, the next they were pulling him impossibly closer, only needing more.  
   “Dean,” Castiel moaned darkly, and the sheer passion behind that one word sent a huge fucking blast of lust directly to Dean’s groin, and he moaned in response.  
   “We shouldn’t be doing this, we should try to get out,” Dean’s sensible side almost took over, then he felt a strong hand moving slowly, tactically, down his abdomen, and he almost jumped when it covered his groin.  
   Oh, did that feel good, or what? Dean practically ground his hips up into Castiel, moving faster when the angel grunted and rolled his pelvis, creating maximal friction between them.  
   “Can I?” Dean asked breathlessly, voice dark with arousal, receiving only a nod in return.  
   He worked one hand all over Castiel’s back, while the other was trying to unfasten the guy’s belt, and unbutton his pants. Needless to say, the angel was shivering, and Dean almost forgot Cas had probably never done this before, if he hadn’t been busy since their meeting with Raphael.  
   “Oh, Dean -” the broken, aroused voice of the angel forced Dean to lift his eyes from Castiel’s groin, and he got a glimpse of blue eyes, and that was almost all it took for him to want to rip Castiel’s clothes off and just do all sorts of blasphemous things to him right there, right now, on the hard, wet floor.  
   “Fuck, Cas, want you so bad. Can I touch you?”  
   “Yes, yes, Dean, oh, yes.” His voice was shaking with the effort of not screaming out. It was so overwhelming, and he could understand why Dean loved this.  
   A few seconds later, Dean got the top button undone, and was now busy with the zipper. Swearing when it got stuck in Cas’ underpants, he shook it gently, pathetically, until it gave way.  
   When he first touched Castiel, he almost came at the low needy whimper in Castiel’s throat, and the strong hands roughly touching him.  
   “Feel good?” Dean asked, running his thumb up the underside of Castiel’s twitching cock, and the angel made a noise that was absolutely sinful.  
   Castiel grabbed hold of Dean’s hair and tugged him into a harsh, sloppy kiss.  
   All of a sudden there was a heavy sound of footsteps outside in the hallway, and Dean froze in panic, while Castiel apparently hadn’t noticed, and just kept slowly fucking Dean’s tightly closed fist. Seconds later the door was opened and Dean was blinded by the light. Castiel stopped moving and they withdrew from each other’s lips with a loud smack. Then -  
   “My eyes! Dean!” Sam practically screamed in horror. “You could at least give me some warning and lock the door! God damn it.”  
   Dean looked from his appalled brother to the flushed, needy face of the angel sitting on his lap with his still-hard cock in Dean’s hand, and he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of embarrassment.  
   “Cas, tell me, was the door locked?” he asked, incredulous.  
   “No…”  
   Definitely embarrassment.  
   Dean sighed, and made up his mind.  
   “Shut the damned door, Sammy, and wait in the car!”


End file.
